Wants and Needs
by Skate-815
Summary: Set just before Momentum Deferred, Peter can't sleep. At 3 am, he wonders why. A companion fic to 'A Certain Type of Fear' that is no longer a one shot. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Big thanks to anyone who read and/or reviewed my Drunken Mistakes fanfic over the months. This is a one shot, set around the time of Momentum Deferred.**

**I'll be posting a companion fic to this during the weekend, from Olivia's point of view.**

**Unbetaed, as usual, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

Half three.

Peter groaned and rolled over, away from the taunting red numbers on his alarm clock. Half past three in the morning and he still couldn't sleep. He could blame Walter and Olivia alike for disrupting his sleep patterns, (and he most certainly would if either thought to comment on the bags under his eyes in the morning) but the fact of the matter was that there was only one thing keeping him awake to the early hours of the morning. Sex. Or more specifically, his lack thereof.

One year, he realised. It had to be over a year. A year and one month at the very least. That was pathetic, even by his standards. His last time had very definitely been in Iraq. Before a certain Olivia Dunham had crashed into his life with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, destroying any semblance of a life that he had once had, and pulling him into this freak show of an operation.

Olivia. It was her fault really. She'd tracked him down, blackmailed him and forced him to help her with her damned hopeless cause. Worse still, she'd made him care. About Walter, about her and about the pattern. He'd never asked for a family, he'd never asked for an FBI pay check and he'd certainly never asked to develop feelings for his boss, but that was the hand he had been dealt. What he_ had_ asked for was his own bedroom, but of course the feds took their time to deliver. That had been the true beginning of his dry spell.

He could have slept with Olivia's sister. Beautiful, single Rachel. She'd called him around midnight, close to a year ago, one thing clearly on her mind. For reasons that were completely evading him now, he turned her down. It had been something to do with Olivia, he wagered. Olivia, and a severe lack of alcohol. Back then, it had been eight months. It had seemed like a lifetime at the time, but yet still manageable. And so some sort of strange affinity for Olivia Dunham had held him back. Because he'd known how much pain the John shaped hole in her life was causing her, and that she most certainly wasn't sleeping with anyone either. So it had only seemed fair that he held out, at least for a while.

And so he'd turned Rachel down in April, but he wouldn't today. If, for whatever reason, she picked up the phone and made that same booty call tomorrow, he would jump at the opportunity. Sure, it would still prick at his conscience and Olivia would certainly be furious if she found out, but by God, it would be worth it. Because if his affection for Olivia had doubled in the subsequent months, his need for some sort of physical relations had quadrupled.

Looking back now he'd wanted sex, surely. But he'd needed it to be with Olivia, if only to keep his conscience clear. Today, it was becoming more and more obvious that he needed sex, but now he merely wanted it to be with Olivia. This fascination- or to be quite frank, this crush- of his may cause him to take stupid risks, to pull her out of tanks and provide her a shoulder to cry on, but it wasn't enough anymore. Not enough for him to keep abstaining in the vague hope that she would get emotional, terrified or drunk enough to throw him a bone.

He didn't love her. In that fact, he took a great deal of comfort. But he was close. The last time he'd felt like this he'd been on the very verge of falling. He'd felt himself standing on the precipice, and he'd turned and ran. Within days of even thinking about the 'L' word, he had broken up with Tess and fled the country. Not necessarily in that order either. He wouldn't leave this time, however. His freedom had long since evaporated, and he found he liked this flutter in his chest every time he met Olivia's gaze altogether too much to slip away in the night.

Everything always came back to Olivia, these days. He ran a tired hand over his eyes. He needed to sleep and to do that he needed to reach some sort of resolution. He groped around in the dark, and found his jeans over a nearby chair. Pulling a coin from the pocket, he stared at it. Heads, he'd talk to Olivia; tails he'd hit the bar tomorrow night. Feeling almost ridiculous amount of reverence for something as simple as a coin toss, he flipped it once and felt an unmistakable relief as it landed on his duvet.

Good. Decision made, and fate had picked for him. Sex with a stranger it would be. He might face rejection, he may get the odd slap before he got what he needed, but at least neither would be from Olivia. He honestly didn't think he could handle that.

* * *

Lady Luck, as always, was not on his side. His plans for the next evening were well and truly put to rest in the form of a case involving a woman from Walter's past, Olivia's heart practically stopping and a whole lot of missing heads. In other words, a normal day in the lab. So he put his own personal needs to the side once again, and got on with dealing with Walter's crisis of the week all the while telling himself very firmly not to fall for Olivia.

On the whole, he was relieved when he received the phone call from Broyles, telling him that the shapeshifter was dead, shot by the one and only Olivia Dunham and that the case was closed. He didn't ask for more details, knowing he was to be debriefed in the morning. When Walter arrived home safe on the bus, he told him the good news and focused on getting ready to go out that night.

He hadn't forgotten the results of his coin toss.

* * *

When he eventually managed to part from Walter, he hit the nearest bar he could think of. All and all, things were going surprisingly well. He'd attracted the attention of a leggy blonde, bombarded her with compliments and had bought her a drink or two. However, she had no sooner leant in and asked him to come back to her place when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Wincing, he prayed that it would only be Walter, attempting to remember some missing ingredient for yet another batch of cookies, but glancing down at the screen; he found that naturally, luck still wasn't on his side.

It was Olivia. Typical. He considered declining the call, hoping she would take the hint, but something stopped him. She rarely called him, and when she did, it was usually important. Deep down knowing this was a terrible idea, be excused himself to take the call, hoping it would be a brief one.

"Peter Bishop" he answered, attempting to sound as distracted as possible, hoping that she would take the hint and realise that this was a bad time.

"Peter, I need you" her tone just about broke his heart, and although he knew that he was off the clock and that he certainly had no obligation to go to her, he really couldn't do anything other than dash to her side. He glanced at the blonde, sighed inwardly, and told Olivia,

"I'm on my way."

* * *

**The companion will be based on why Olivia called rather than the aftermath, in case anyone was wondering.**

**Oh, and just had to add, the promo for the next episode... 2:12, I think... looks awesome :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**So despite everything I said, I've decided to continue this fic. Ever since I published 'Wants and Needs' and its companion 'A Certain Type of Fear', what happened next has been playing out in my mind. I tried a few different versions of before I got distracted by other things. Now I've come back to this again and I have the whole thing pretty much written, but I'm not entirely sure I like how some of it flows, particularly in what I've got coming up next, so input is always appreciated.**

**Just to recap- It's set the night Charlie dies in Momentum Deferred, and Peter doesn't know anything about it yet. He was out in a bar trying to pick up a girl, before Olivia called him to tell him that she needs him. **

**The point of view jumps around a lot, so sorry if that sort of thing annoys you.**

**

* * *

**

Fourteen minutes passed between Peter's muffled goodbyes and his knock on Olivia's front door. He had arrived a lot quicker than she'd expected- he certainly couldn't have come from home or the lab- but yet that quarter of an hour somehow seemed like the longest of her life. It was a time in which she'd fidgeted, turned the heating down and then up again, rearranged her bookshelf and above all, tried oh so hard not to think about Charlie just yet. It was only when she heard Peter's firm knock that she realised she didn't have the first clue what to say to him.

**

It was only about half ten, but Olivia opened the door to him in her university sweatshirt and pyjama pants. He frowned a little as he drank in her appearance. She looked… different somehow. Paler than usual, maybe and there was a dullness about her that concerned him. Her hair was loose about her shoulders for a change, framing her face beautifully. He didn't know if it was the alcohol talking, but as usual she looked absolutely delectable. Even with her hair unstyled and wearing no makeup, she still managed to upstage every single one of those girls in that bar.

A beat later, and he realised he was staring. Swallowing hard and trying to regain full control of his actions he dragged his gaze up to her face and it was only then that he met her eyes for the first time. Overwhelming emotion resided there, but in his semi inebriated state he couldn't quite tell if it was fear, sadness, or another emotion entirely. She had, however, called him for a reason, and he was eager to resolve it. Maybe that way he could return to the bar before it closed.

"What's wrong?"

**

She blinked at his question, still unsure how she could possibly voice what had happened today. Instead, she took a step backwards out of the doorway and beckoned to him.

"Come in." She caught Peter giving her another obvious once over before he complied, and almost subconsciously she found her eyes trailing over him in a similar manner. He looked different, almost. He was wearing a button down shirt for a start- not unusual in itself, but he'd also done something to his hair and she could smell a faint tinge of alcohol on his breath. And perhaps most damning of all, she saw a trace of pink lipstick smudged on his lower lip. At once, her mind jumped to a single, horrible conclusion. Peter had been on a date, or at the very least had been kissing someone.

"What's wrong?" Peter repeated, sounding faintly annoyed this time.

"I…" she tried, but still words failed her. _Charlie's dead,_ she remembered with a pang. Charlie had died, months ago, most likely on a mission she'd sent him on, and now Peter was seeing other women. The second realisation registered much lower on the scale than the first but it still added to the ever growing reasons as to why Olivia's life was falling down around her. First John, then Charlie, and now it seemed Peter was destined to leave her too.

"Liv?" Peter prompted as he took one step towards her, a strange mixture of frustration and concern on his face, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She knew that what he was saying was true, that unlike Broyles, Nina Sharpe, or maybe even Walter he didn't have an agenda when it came to her. She trusted him more than anyone on this Earth, especially after everything that had happened that day. She swallowed again, trying very hard not to think of her best friend and what it had felt like to put a bullet in his skull and focused on her newer dilemma instead. Peter had clearly been on a date, but he was here now. What did that mean? All she'd told him was that she'd needed him. Had that really been enough for him to up and leave wherever he had been? A sudden, very real affection for him sprung from nowhere, and without thought, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled him into a crushing embrace. And worst of all, when he turned his head to look at her, she just happened to brush her lips against his.

**

Peter froze as Olivia slowly began to kiss him. It took about half a second for his mind to catch up with exactly what was happening here because if she had called him here for _this_, this was the strangest attempt at seduction he had ever experienced. Still, odd circumstances or not, this was Olivia Dunham- the woman that he'd abstained for over a year for, and it seemed now that some God somewhere was finally paying him back.

Finally reacting, he quickly took control, backing her firmly against her front door and kissing her furiously. He'd imagined this going a million and one different ways over this past year- a slow and gentle goodnight kiss, versus a hard and fast screw; in his bed or on her desk he had never exactly been picky. But now that something was actually happening, he found he cared very little about their surroundings. He just knew he didn't want to come up for air anytime soon.

**

Peter took a while to respond but when he did, it was with a lot more passion than Olivia had expected from him. He quickly dominated her, pressing her into the front door as the full length of his body tried to get as close to hers as possible. He tasted strongly of whiskey, his tongue was sliding along her bottom lip just begging her for entrance and through two sets of pants she could feel the beginnings of an erection against her thigh. She'd wanted _something_ with Peter for a long time now, but not like this. As eager as he seemed to continue, she had called him here tonight for an entirely different reason.

She didn't want to push him away completely- that could lead to a bruised ego and some harsh words that she really didn't need right now- but she needed things between them to slow down now before they could get any further. She did want Peter, of course she did, but not like this and not tonight.

**

"Peter, slow down." she whispered when he pulled back for air and terrified of screwing things up he at once took a step backwards, allowing them both room to just breathe. He examined her openly, unsure of what to do next. She was breathlessly beautiful, but still utterly unreadable, and he didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for.

_She said slow down_ his head prompted, _not to stop._ And so content with this knowledge, he slowly lowered his lips to hers again, giving her plenty of time to evade him if she didn't want this. They finally made contact, and his head was swimming with a mixture of elation and sheer drunkenness but he forced himself to keep a steady pace; to just kiss and nothing more. Did the fact that he'd only just realised he'd rather share one breathtaking kiss with Olivia than go home with that girl from the bar mean he was more smitten than he'd originally thought?

**

Peter was kissing her again, but this time it was slower, softer and a lot more in keeping with the way she'd always imagined a first kiss with him would be. His left hand was still caught up in her hair, and his right was against the door behind her, almost as if he was bracing himself. His kiss was gentle, affectionate and altogether frighteningly loving, and while part of her was just as pleased that this was happening as he appeared to be, this all just seemed too intimate for a first- or indeed a second kiss. Especially tonight.

From the way he was acting, it appeared that he liked her a lot more than she'd suspected. She would like to blame it on the booze that he'd so clearly been downing earlier, but she knew Peter, and knew he wasn't the sort to take this all back in the morning. If she were honest, right now, kissing Peter Bishop, she had never been more terrified. People who loved her had a funny habit of winding up dead and she didn't want that for this beautiful man who was pouring his soul into kissing her.

Before she could stop them, the tears had already begun their slow path down her face.

**

Peter heard her breath hitch, but the significance of it didn't quite register in his mind. Indeed, it was only when he felt a few drops moisture run along his cheek and down to his lips that he realised that anything was at all wrong with his partner. Surprised, his eyes flicked open and he drew back, his tongue slipping out subconsciously to taste the salt water that now streaked his face as well as hers

"What's wrong?" he asked her for the third time this evening, wondering how he could have misinterpreted all of this so badly. Olivia did nothing but shake her head, and the tears poured relentlessly from those emerald eyes, sending a horrified shiver through him.

"I'm sorry" he tried, backing away slightly, "I shouldn't…I guess I thought you wanted…" he broke off, not knowing what to say. She had kissed him first, after all, "I'm sorry. I'll just go."

"Charlie's dead." she suddenly blurted out and his eyes widened, unsure he'd heard right.

"Charlie's what?"

"Dead" she choked on a sob, and feeling at once sober, he took one large stride and enveloped her in his arms.

**

Olivia choked on a sob as Peter embraced her, holding her tight against him. He pressed a light kiss onto her head, and was mumbling something to her that she couldn't quite hear above the sound of her own crying. She felt him shift slightly and as a countermeasure she tightened her grip around him, clinging to him so tightly that he again shifted uncomfortably.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, and it was only then that she forced her grip to relax.

They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, Peter just holding her, allowing all of her built up sadness to just wash through her. Finally, when it felt like she had nothing more to cry, she slowly pulled away. Peter stepped back, regarding her with an open concern.

"Come on, let's just sit" he prompted and she just let him lead her to the sofa, feeling utterly drained of everything. He sat down at one end and although she was sure he expected her to perch nervously at the other, she sat as close to him as she could without physically sitting on his lap. Despite the fact he had practically mauled her by the door, he was almost laughably hesitant as he slipped an arm around her shoulder.

She turned her head to look at him without quite knowing why, and was terrified when she saw the expectant look on Peter's face. He assumed she was about to tell him the horrible details about her confrontation with that _thing_ that was most certainly not Charlie, but there was nothing she wanted less right now than to relive the worst moment of her existence.

**

"I don't want to talk about it" she said abruptly, sounding on the verge of yet more tears, hot on the heels of the first batch that had just soaked his shirt through.

"You don't have to." he promised, ensuring his voice was no louder than a low murmur. He didn't want to scare her away now. After a moment's hesitation, he let his fingertips glide lower down her back, and he began to rub what he hoped was soothing circles through the thick sweatshirt.

**

Peter was clearly nervous as hell. His hands were half trembling against her back and when she dared look at him, his expression resembled that of a deer caught in headlights. Obviously he didn't know what to do or to say, but somehow that was okay because she was feeling pretty lost herself right about now. However, now that she could sense just how terrified he was of putting a foot wrong, she found an inexplicable bravery and she shifted even closer to him on the soft old sofa cushions, allowing her head to rest in that comfortable little spot in between his neck and his chest.

His gently trailing fingers ceased for a moment, and without even quite knowing where it came from, she found herself whispering,

"No, don't stop." With her words came the startling knowledge that she was reluctant for him to pull away- now or indeed ever.

"Okay" he agreed, and just like that the calming motions resumed. She shut her eyes and focused on her breathing. For the first time since she'd returned to her empty apartment that night, she felt at peace, and for now she was just willing to enjoy it.

**

"Tell me about him" Peter said in the same gentle tone as before, but as he felt her tense against him, he remembered her earlier words and quickly corrected, "Not about the shapeshifter. Charlie. Tell me about the first time you met him." She didn't say anything for too long a time, and he swallowed before he added.

"You don't have to, of course. I just thought…"

"It's a good idea" she interrupted, rewarding him with a weak smile.

**

She talked for the best part of an hour about meaningless little things about Charlie. How he looked after her on her first day. How he'd turned a blind eye to her forbidden romance with a colleague and how he was the only person, other than him and John that she'd trusted enough to tell about her stepfather.

Peter for his part listened commendably, laughing and smiling sympathetically when required. It was only, in fact when she eventually grew uncomfortable in her position that she reluctantly drew away, Peter releasing her without a second thought.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, if only to give him a concrete reason for pulling away so suddenly.

"I think I've had enough for one night" Peter smiled a little, reminding her that although she'd had a few glasses herself prior to calling him, he was certainly ahead of her. She was grateful for that however, because he certainly seemed to be on the right side of drunk- he had been a little tipsy when he'd arrived perhaps, letting his guard down enough to let her in, but still sober enough to be unmistakably Peter.

She gave him a shrug and walked into the kitchen to fetch a drink of her own. Although it hadn't been her intention he followed her, watching her pour as he leaned against the kitchen counter. She took a long drink from her glass, before turning back to him, finally allowing herself to ask the question that had hovered in the back of her mind all night, just behind the more pressing matter of Charlie.

"Where were you when I called?"

"A bar" his answer was instant and honest, but she knew there had to be more to it. Watching him carefully over the top of her glass, she asked her next question.

**

"Were you alone?" The question surprised him enough to draw his gaze to her instantly. An action he regretted almost as soon as he did it. To look away now would be an admission of guilt, and he had nothing to be ashamed of, but if he continued to stare into her eyes, she would be able to read him like an open book.

"No. Not really" she gave a short, clipped laugh and thankfully looked down. He gratefully too allowed his eyes to fall to the floor.

"So what's her name?" If she wasn't so fragile tonight he might have found himself drawing this out, taking it as an admission of jealousy rather than simple curiosity. As it was, he knew it would be better to be straight forward.

"I don't remember it."

**

Olivia looked up again, unsure if he was being honest with her or not, but she berated herself the second she did so. Peter had never made a habit of lying to her, especially over something as trivial as this. She knew that she really shouldn't care what he did with his time, but it didn't prevent a certain sadness overcoming her. She struggled to find something, _anything_ to say to that, and in the time it took her to come up with something coherent, an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the room.

On a normal day, she knew that she and Peter could just sit with one another without any uneasiness, but this quietness was quite simply unpleasant, and she really didn't want it to be like this, especially given how sweet Peter had been all night. He wasn't hers, she reminded herself. She had no more claim to him than Astrid did. She had never given him the slightest sign that she wanted him, so naturally he was free to sleep with as many girls as he liked in his own time. Finally meeting his eyes, she forced herself to extend the olive branch.

"I'm sorry" she offered him a rueful smile and he gave another weak one in response, "It's late. I'm not thinking straight. I shouldn't have asked you that."

"It's fine" he nodded, but it was clear the awkwardness hadn't completely faded between them.

* * *

**A bad place to leave it? Maybe, but there didn't really seem to be a natural place for me to stop.**

**I'll have the next chapter up on Thursday, if anyone's interested. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed the previous chapter. The rating has gone up in this one for safety, because I'm a bit hazy on what's classified as an M and what's a T.**

**I hope you like this one.**

Peter glanced up at the clock for no other reason than to break the increasingly intense eye contact that they had found themselves in. Without quite knowing why, he was feeling a vague sort of guilt for nearly going home with that woman, and he really didn't like the feeling. At that bar, Olivia had phoned him before he and that woman could get any further than simply kissing, but even if they had slept together he still couldn't see why it would bother her. He often liked to entertain the notion that his feelings were reciprocated, but he knew in reality that his chances were slim to none. Even if she did like him, she would never, _never_ allow herself to act on them. He wasn't foolish enough to believe tonight's collection of frantic kisses in the doorway made a difference in the long run. Indeed, he had already deemed them to be the exception to the rule, brought about by her very real terror at the thought of being left alone. A sentiment he wasn't exactly a stranger to.

He saw Olivia follow his lead as she turned her head to look at the clock as well. Together, they could do nothing but blink in surprise as they regarded the time. It was nearing twelve thirty, and despite it not being overly late by his standards he was still taken aback by how long he'd spent in Olivia's home already.

"I should probably go." He suggested when the silence got too much for him, "As long as you're feeling a bit better?" She again glanced at the clock, this time almost reluctantly, giving him the distinct impression she wasn't quite ready for him to go yet. He stayed still, allowing her to contemplate an answer, ready to stay or to go at a moment's notice.

**

Peter's question hung over them and she knew she should agree and let him return to bed or perhaps even the pursuit of a beautiful woman. Although she still felt awful, he had improved her situation a little by just being there. She was still certain she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight without seeing images of Charlie's body, motionless on the ground, but the dreadful fear had subsided. Peter's presence had been a comforting reminder that there were still people left who cared about her. Although they were few in number, they existed and somehow that was comfort enough at a time like this.

"I'm feeling a bit better" she parroted back and he gave her an odd look, as if that had been the last thing he'd expected her to say.

"I could stay" Peter offered, a bit uncertainly, "If you don't think you can sleep, we can talk some more, watch TV, whatever…" he broke off, and she almost felt inclined to take him up on his offer. Perhaps she could put on a DVD and curl up on her sofa with him. Maybe for a few hours she could pretend tonight never happened. However, just as she was contemplating his suggestion, a sudden tiredness hit her, stemming from too many late nights and not nearly enough caffeine.

"I need to sleep" she decided aloud and Peter nodded, looking almost relieved. He still lingered in her kitchen however, not making any movement towards the front door. Feeling suddenly brave, she added, "but will you stay anyway?"

**

Peter's mouth went a little dry, unsure exactly what she was asking of him. Telling himself not to presume anything, he agreed.

"Okay. Yeah, your sofa doesn't look too uncomfortable. Better than ours. If you get me a blanket, I can..." He felt terribly nervous, but she seemed to be truly at peace for the first time since he'd arrived. She interrupted his ramblings with an easy smile, taking his hand.

"Stay with me in my bed?"

"Okay" he agreed again, allowing her to pull him towards her bedroom, "Whatever you want."

**

He looked completely thrown by her suggestion, and Olivia had to wonder what exactly he thought her intentions were. But then, she supposed if you took time to consider how she had kissed him a mere few hours ago, such thoughts were understandable.

She left him standing in the centre of her room while she went to prepare herself for bed. While she brushed her teeth, her mind again wandered to him and smiling to herself, she wondered if he was pacing up and down her bedroom, examining her possessions like he did in a victim's household. However, when she eventually returned to him, he was perched on the edge of her bed; hands clasped together, the same nervous air about him.

"Are you going to be able to sleep in that?" She nodded at his collared shirt and jeans, recalling how he usually slept naked save for boxer shorts and he gave a stiff nod in response.

"Okay, suit yourself" she shrugged, before tugging her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a simple vest top. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out the pyjama shirt she usually slept in, but hesitated before changing into it, wondering if she should ask Peter to turn around, or if she should even return to the bathroom to do so.

After a few moments, she quickly remembered that he had seen her in nothing but her black bra and panties during their first case together, and again when she'd been in the tank twice more since then. She'd been so distracted by thoughts of John the first time that the fact that she'd pretty much bared all to Peter Bishop hadn't so much as crossed her mind until the aftermath, and now the thought of moving to a separate room just to change seemed like a silly thing to worry about. So before she could change her mind, she yanked the vest top off too, and it was only when she stood, a little cold, clothed only in her bra as she fumbled with the pyjama top that she knew she'd made a mistake. Before, Peter had appeared as disinterested as any straight male could while confronted with a half naked woman, but there was a distinct difference now. He was in her bedroom in a personal capacity rather than a professional one, and somehow that changed everything.

Although he had undoubtedly seen her in less, she saw Peter's gaze immediately drawn to her, his eyes skimming up and down her figure and when she finally managed to catch his eye again, he swallowed heavily. Although she knew she should feel embarrassed and self conscious she somehow seemed to have passed that stage with Peter, and instead she was left with an odd sense of satisfaction. She'd always saw herself as someone special in Peter's life- the only person that she knew of that he seemed to open up to, without prompting or hesitation. In a similar fashion, she'd always known he had some degree of feelings for her, but lately that seemed to have fallen to the wayside. Ever since her accident, he'd been watching her with careful eyes rather than lustful ones, and just like the earlier kisses, it was nice to have a sign that he was still interested. Momentarily forgetting her troubles, she dropped his gaze and hid her smile as she put on the pyjama top in an unhurried manner, knowing he was watching her every movement.

**

When Olivia turned to toss her used clothes into the laundry basket, he kicked off his shoes and socks, threw his phone and wallet onto the bedside table and slid below the covers before she could have the chance to glance at him and notice the state she had gotten him into. Seemingly oblivious, she gave him a soft smile before she settled down into bed beside him, and he slowly shifted away from her in a manner that he hoped wasn't too obvious.

It was deathly, horribly wrong but ever since she'd returned from the bathroom and proceeded to strip in front of him, his jeans had begun to feel far too tight. He lay on his back, facing upwards and shut his eyes, trying to think of anything other than the fact he had been kissing this woman hours earlier. She had given him erections before and he probably fantasised about her just a little too often but aside from their earlier makeout session, he had never had a hard on with her in such close proximity before.

"Peter?" Her cautious tone forced him to open his eyes,

"Yeah?" God she was gorgeous and he was having a difficult time thinking about anything other than his recurring fantasy of just pinning her to the bed and having his way with her.

"Can you maybe hold me?" As she spoke, he felt furious with himself. She hadn't called him here tonight so she could sleep with him, she'd called him as a friend and he had to act like one. But he couldn't do that while entertaining thoughts of ravishing her.

"Course." he agreed before he fully thought it through. It was only as she moved towards him that he realised if he allowed her body to intertwine with his, she would realise his... predicament rather quickly. "Just give me a minute though, okay?" She gave him a confused look, followed by one with a sudden, inevitable realisation.

"Peter, are you..." She broke off, looking down at the quilt pointedly. He wanted to lie, but knew to do so now would be obvious. That being said, admitting the truth would be equally humiliating. It just wasn't fair. He had refrained from having sex with anyone, pretty much for her sake and now it was coming back to bite him in a big way.

"Just give me a minute." he repeated firmly, and to his absolute horror, she began to laugh.

**

It had been one hell of a night. That was certain. What had started with a simple case had led to the nightmare of having to murder the monster that had killed her best friend weeks ago. It had then progressed to some heavy drinking on her part, followed by making out with the one man who was probably the closest thing she had left to a real, honest to God friend. And now she was in bed with said man, and he had become inexplicably aroused from the simple act of sharing a bed with her. Or maybe, on reflection it had been the stripping, but although she had intended to catch his attention, the thought it might lead to this had naively never crossed her mind. So she had to laugh, because if she didn't she might just cry and neither of them needed for that to happen again. And besides, the pained look on Peter's face was just too damn funny for her to ignore.

She somewhat unsuccessfully tried to muffle the next wave of giggles when she saw Peter flush a distinct shade of pink, which only caused him to stare at the roof, refusing to look in her direction.

"Sorry," she apologised, finally controlling her laughter, but unable to keep the mirth from her tone, "Sorry. I shouldn't be laughing.

"No, you shouldn't" he agreed, but his tone lacked the humour contained in hers.

"Can I do anything to help?" As soon as the words came out of her mouth she realised she should have said nothing. This time it was her turn to blush while Peter snorted with laughter.

"Aside from the obvious?"

"I meant I could put my sweatshirt back on" she coughed, and he gave her a soft smile, "I could cover up a bit more."

"I know what you meant, but no. I'll be fine."

**

"Is that why you're still wearing your clothes?" Olivia asked after a few moments and he gave a shrug in response. Mostly it was because he had originally planned to slip away once she fell asleep, knowing he couldn't really leave Walter alone all night, but he knew she wouldn't believe him if he denied it.

"Okay, come here" he sighed after another couple of minutes passed by. His problem hadn't exactly gone away completely, but reciting the periodic table backwards in his head had helped to calm him to some extent.

**

On his word, Olivia moved under the covers so that Peter could slip his arms around her for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He rolled onto his side and she rested her head against his still clothed chest. After a moment, Peter's fingers began stroke through her hair, while his right hand just rested across her waist. It had been a long time since she'd shared her bed with anyone, and to begin with she struggled to get comfortable.

Quite frankly, she didn't know what to do with her hands. His seemed to just find their natural place on her, but she had no clue where to put hers. She let her left hand lie limp against the small space of bed between them, but she wanted to touch him in some small way with her dominant hand. Casually, she trailed it along his chest, searching for somewhere to rest it, until Peter gave a small grunt and caught her hand in his own, placing it on his waist.

She still felt a little cramped however and squirmed against him, trying to find somewhere just a little bit more comfy. Peter said nothing, just held her loosely as she continually shifted in his arms. Until that is, she tried to slip one of her legs between his.

"Olivia," Peter half growled her name, "What exactly are you doing?" She was about to ask him what his problem was, but just then she happened to move so that her thigh brushed against his most intimate area, and she was surprised as she felt the evidence of just how stiff he still was beneath the denim.

"Sorry" she stifled another laugh, "I'm not really helping matters, am I?"

"Not really" he answered in a gruff tone.

"Let me try something" she mumbled, turning her back to him and pulling one hand into a loose hold around her, while placing the other at the top of her head. Without question, he began to stroke her hair again.

"Better?" he whispered and she nodded, "Good." He fell silent, and she closed her eyes, knowing she should at least attempt to sleep. However in the darkness, the horrible thoughts returned, along with the shame and guilt surrounding Charlie's death. She knew there was little chance of her getting any rest tonight.

**

Peter frowned as he continued to run the fingers of his right hand through Olivia's hair. After all of her writhing against him in what he could only suppose was an attempt to get comfortable, she'd simply rolled over and fell silent. He still knew he had to leave… preferably soon if he was to return home before Walter got up for his three a.m. snack, but he wasn't sure if she'd fallen asleep, or if she was just lying quietly beside him. For all of her laughter at his condition, he knew that she was still hurting and scared to be alone and he was reluctant to walk out on her, especially if she was just lying there awake.

After close to thirty minutes of silence, he was beginning to think about leaving when her voice came through the darkness, quiet but just about audible. She rolled over, so that she was facing him again, and the terrified expression on her face just about did him in.

"Peter, I'm scared" her whisper was so low he barely heard it. He abandoned all thoughts of departure and at once redoubled his efforts at relaxing her, moving his free hand up her back to trace the same patterns as before.

"I know."

"No, you don't" she insisted, "you don't understand why..."

"Tell me, then" he whispered patiently.

"I'm scared that you or Rachel or Astrid will die next, and I'll not be able to stop it." she admitted, "And today when you said you were out trying to pick up a girl... God I know how stupid this sounds, but if felt like I was losing you too. And of course it's ridiculous- you're allowed a social life Peter, but today of all days? It was the worst possible time for me to realise you have a life outside me and Walter." Peter took a moment to think, but didn't let either of his hands pause for a second, hoping she would know that he understood on some level.

"I can't promise you I won't die, but there's something you should know." He paused not quite sure yet how much he wanted to admit, "That life outside the Fringe Division you were talking about? I don't have one. That bar tonight was my failed attempt at normalcy." He chuckled.

"So that girl?" She sounded so fragile that it was just breaking his heart.

"I'm never going to see her again" he promised, unsure if it's what she wanted to hear, but determined for things to be right again.

**  
"I was never really the sort of person" who had one night stands she confided in him without quite knowing why. There was a silence and she wondered if he maybe thought she was criticizing him. His hands were still constantly moving, stroking and lavishing her with affectionate gestures, but she was just lying against him. She was again left with the problem of what to do with her hands, and so she caught the one that was stroking her hair, just simply holding it in the small space between their bodies. She let his other hand continue to roam, enjoying the feeling entirely too much to stop him.

"I used to be," he confessed, "Not anymore." She raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

"Stop judging me on tonight. That was going to be the first sex I've had in a very long time."

"How long is very long?" She asked, stroking the fingers of the hand holding hers.

"Let's just say it was in Iraq" he mumbled, "Hence my reaction when you started stripping in front of me."

"When did you even have time to have sex in Iraq?" she frowned a little, trying to remember if he had ever left her side for an elongated amount of time, "You were with me for most of the trip." It was true. With her leg being the way it was, it had been hard for her to go anywhere without him, so he'd been perfectly attentive, staying with her near constantly. Her confused frown was met with one of his own, until he gave her a look of realisation.

"I meant the other time I was in Iraq. Just before I met you."

"Oh". Was all she could think to say.

"Yeah" he agreed grimly, "I told you. A really long time."

"So even I've been having more sex than you?" She teased, and she felt him pull back from her to give her a surprised look.

**

"You have?" The main reason he'd avoided sex for the past year was her. If he found out that she'd been having it anyway, it would be a major dent to his pride for sure. Not to mention the unexpected jealousy that flared up upon the mere mention of another man.

"Yeah. Don't you remember when I was in Nick's body?" She laughed and he smiled too, moving back to his original spot beside her. How could he possibly forget? The sound of her moaning had filled his head for weeks.

"Lesbian sex dreams don't count" he corrected.

"It wasn't just a dream. I was really there," she protested, "and it wasn't a lesbian dream either. I was the guy, but I was me. It's hard to explain."

"Still doesn't count" he insisted, leaning over her to check the time, "God Liv, it's nearly half two. You should try to get some sleep"

"So should you" she spoke in a defiant tone without quite knowing why. He glanced down at her and found her looking up at him. Ever so naturally, she began to lean in towards him and at two in the morning, he found himself less chivalrous than normal so didn't fight the kiss that followed.

It was a sweet, gentle goodnight kiss, but that still didn't stop his cock twitching in anticipation of more. With a barrier of denim and cotton between it and her thigh, she probably didn't notice but he still couldn't prevent himself from looking away from her, again embarrassed.

"Are you going to be here when I wake up?" She mumbled as he flopped onto his back, pulling her with him, so that she half rested on him, half to the side.

"Probably not." he confessed, finally freeing his hand from hers and resuming slowly running her hair through his fingers, "You need to sleep, but I should go home before Walter notices I'm gone."

"Wake me up before you go" she mumbled against his still fully clothed chest.

"Okay" he agreed sleepily, secretly vowing to do no such thing.

He had fully intended to slip away once she had fallen asleep against him, but the real trouble with that was when that time came, he too was on the verge of exhaustion. Despite promising himself that he would only close his eyes for a second, he fell into a deep slumber beneath her.

* * *

**I'm expecting a lot less reviews because of the rating changed, so if you like this please let me know :)**

**I'll put up the next chapter at the weekend. Hopefully Saturday, but it could be Sunday before I get around to it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry, I know this is late, but I had a mountain of homework that took priority over fanfic. :( Silly physics... **

**Anyways, this is the last chapter of this particular fanfic. Thanks for all the encouragement from everyone. I hope you enjoy this last chapter. It's my first attempt at smut, so hopefully it went okay.**

**

When Olivia next opened her eyes, light was filtering through the crack in her curtains, casting a warm glow onto the room. She blinked in confusion as she looked down to see an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, and it was only when she tried to sit up that she realised the warm object she was practically lying on top of was a body, not a pillow. Panicking a little, she cast her eyes about, and was somewhat relieved to find that she was in her own bed, and a glance under the covers told her that she wasn't naked. Indeed, it was only when she turned her head a little and saw that the man behind her was in fact Peter Bishop that the previous night came back to her in a rush, a few certain details standing out more than others. _Calling Peter, kissing Peter, telling Peter all about Charlie…_

Oh God, Charlie.

As the final details of the previous day slotted into place, she felt something stick in her throat and fresh tears brim to the surface. Almost subconsciously, she reached for Peter's hand and grasped it firmly. Still sleeping, he squeezed back. She shut her eyes tightly and forced herself to breathe deeply. In and out… in and out… She wished Peter wasn't such a heavy sleeper and that he would hear her, wake up and give her the comfort she was too afraid to ask for.

It took her about fifteen minutes to stifle the panic that the prospect of a world without Charlie brought, until finally it faded just as abruptly as it had arrived. Now calmer, she took a better stock of her surroundings. It was about half eight… From what he had said last night about Walter, she knew Peter had probably planned to leave hours ago, but she was so comforted by his mere presence that she decided to let him sleep for a while longer.

She shifted so that she lay fully on top of him now and took the opportunity to look him up and down. His originally crisp shirt was crinkled from a night's sleep and although it was a word she had never thought to associate with him before, she found that Peter was undeniably cute while he slumbered. Yawning, she stretched out against him but stopped all movements immediately when he moaned under his breath- a deep throaty noise that she was certain she'd never heard him make before.

"Livia" he groaned aloud, cementing her belief that this wasn't the sort of dream he would be happy for her to overhear. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty, because if she hadn't called him last night, he would most likely have fucked some random girl from a bar and wouldn't currently be lying in her bed, horny as hell. Sliding out of his grip, she lay to one side and wondered briefly what she should do. She couldn't very well just lay there with him the midst of a wet dream about her, but she didn't know what else she could do. She briefly considered waking him under the pretence of getting him home to Walter, but she still didn't particularly want him to leave yet. And if she was honest with herself, she knew her home would be entirely too silent if he were to go home.

Conflicted, she climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth, she splashed some water on her face and again her mind drifted to Peter. The previous evening had only proved that he was quickly becoming more than a friend to her, and after the many kisses they'd shared over the course of the night, he was bound to be on the same page as her. And now he was only a wall away, having a very intimate dream about her.

She ran a hand through her hair, at a complete loss as to what to do about him. To be honest, she was half considering waking him, dragging his lips to hers and letting him fuck her, like he so clearly wanted to. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it in the past, it was just that the timing was so horrible and deep down she knew that now wasn't the time for rushing into a relationship she wasn't ready for.

Returning to the bedroom, she slid back under the covers, and on a whim, made a decision. She would wake him, and then take it from there.

**

"Peter," on the very edge of his subconscious, he heard his name and after a few confused seconds, he opened his eyes, just as the voice whispered his name again, "Peter."

"Yeah?" he mumbled, blearily. He rubbed his eyes hurriedly and his world came back into focus, but it was only when he saw Olivia next to him that the previous night fully returned to him. She said nothing for a few moments, and he frowned, wondering if she was on the verge of another anxiety attack, "Are you okay?" he made sure his tone was gentle, recalling how fragile she'd been last night. As he spoke, he rolled onto his side, gradually shifting away from her, in case she were to accidentally brush against his lower half. He was naturally no stranger to morning wood, but quite frankly the amount of times he had been aroused in Olivia's presence in these last twelve hours was getting to be ridiculous.

"I'm fine" she smiled, before catching his movements, "And don't worry about it. It's normal." He knew that, of course, but it didn't make this entire situation any more tolerable. As if to strengthen her conviction, she closed the gap between them, lying so close that their bodies were flush against each other. He swallowed, and looked over her head as images from his dream came back to him in glorious Technicolor.

"Peter, it's okay." Olivia reaffirmed in a low tone, before her hands slid up to his neck and gently applied pressure until he looked down at her. He nodded, but it was only to get her to just stop trying to prove her point, whatever the hell that may be. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather up the rest of his self control but when he opened them again, her face was hovering inches from his. And then, finally she kissed him for the first time that morning, and all of his good intentions went to hell.

**

Olivia honestly hadn't intended for this to happen. She'd hoped conversation would come easily when she woke Peter up, but when nothing had sprung to mind, she was forced to improvise. He'd been so visibly embarrassed again by his hard on that she'd moved to reassure him. It was only when she found herself pressed up against him that she realised she had very little alternative than to kiss him.

Peter had immediately rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed as he kissed her as if his life depended on it. She kissed him back hard, allowing him to dominate for a while, knowing he had a lot of pent up sexual frustration to let out. After a time, his lips finally left hers, but it was only to press urgent kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. His lips strayed lower but she could feel his hesitation as he kissed along the top edge of her vest top. She let a low moan escape, mostly to encourage him, but despite her efforts, he seemed to think better of attempting to take things any further and, he instead returned to her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth at the first opportunity.

**

Peter groaned as their tongues duelled for dominance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was all too aware about how wrong this was. That she was in mourning and that he was most definitely taking advantage, but yet he just couldn't bring himself to stop. Not now that he was so worked up, rolling around in bed with the girl of his dreams.

However, as if she had read his mind, both of Olivia's hands pushed him and he flopped heavily onto his back, breaking the contact between them for the first time since she'd started this. He looked up at her, unsure whether or not he should apologise and just leave now, or to see what she had to say about all this. To his complete and utter surprise, she straddled his hips and, breathing heavily, their eyes locked as she slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Leaning up, he eagerly tried to brush his lips across hers again, but the instant before they connected, the shrill ringing of a phone somewhere in the bedroom interrupted them.

Peter sighed as Olivia abandoned her task and scanned the bedroom for the source of the noise. It seemed that luck still, of course, wasn't on his side.

**

Olivia knew she couldn't ignore the ringing phone, but from the semi-wary look on Peter's face, she was afraid he might just bolt if she left him to answer it. Luckily, a quick glance around the bedroom proved the source of the noise to be a lot closer than she'd suspected. It was Peter's cell, ringing where he'd left it on the bedside table. He located it half a second after she did, but before he could reach for it, she leaned over him and lifted it.

"It's Walter." she told him, and feeling bold, she sat up, still straddling him and answered it, "Agent Dunham."

**

Peter started to sit up, but Olivia placed her free hand on his chest. Her touch was feather-light, but he allowed her to push him back down to the bed. He didn't quite know exactly how they'd gotten from just sleeping to this, but he had to admit that he was enjoying this new turn of events immensely.

"Yeah, he's with me. He's in the shower" Olivia half lied, chewing her bottom lip in the most adorable way. He frowned, reaching for the phone, but she swatted his hand away, "No nothing like that. He was helping me with something last night and I guess we just fell asleep." He gave up his attempts at commandeering the phone, and just lay back, staring up at her.

"Is there anything you want me to tell him?" she paused, "Okay. I'll see you later Walter" she hung up abruptly and tossed the cell back to the table.

"What did he want?" the last thing he wanted to do right now was to discuss his father, but it could have been important.

"He was just wondering where you were." she shrugged, "He says he'll get a ride in with Astrid, and he'll see you in the lab when you're done. To be honest, I don't think he believed me when I said you were in the shower," she grinned, and he groaned for an entirely different reason than earlier.

"You should have let me talk to him. He's probably off planning our wedding as we speak." She gave a light laugh. Probably because she didn't realise his comment about the wedding hadn't been a joke, but he couldn't help but chuckle along with her. His hands rested gently on her upper thighs, and although he was unwilling to pressure her, he was desperate to pick up where they'd left off.

"So where were we?" he prompted, and catching his eye again she leaned down and recaptured his lips.

**

This kiss was languid and slow. Peter was holding back, that much was obvious, but she'd been hoping he would take the lead because she wasn't sure just how far she wanted to go with him that morning. She could feel him straining in his jeans beneath her and she knew he wouldn't make her do anything she wasn't ready for, but the real problem was that even she didn't yet know what her limits were.

Peter's hands tentatively began to slide up her body, slipping beneath her top and slowly, his right hand cupped her breast. As he touched her, her very real dread struck her as she remembered that the last man to touch her like that had long since died. And naturally, the thoughts of Charlie that she had been trying so hard to suppress sprung to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she felt more like crying than doing anything with Peter.

"Peter, stop." her whisper was unnecessary, for he'd immediately pulled back when he'd felt her tense beneath his touch. She swallowed, and managed to hold back the tears, but she hated seeing the half flustered, half concerned look on Peter's face.

"Sorry." he mumbled, looking away as she climbed off him, but she was determined that he would understand that he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

"It's not your fault, Peter. It's the timing, and…"

"It's fine." he cut her off in an overly bright tone, before he met her eyes again, "You know I wasn't expecting…" he trailed off too, before granting her a nervous, half smile, "Any chance I can take a shower here before I go home?"

"Yeah, sure" she was determined to keep her voice even, "You know where the bathroom is. There should be some towels in that cupboard." She gestured without looking, and avoided glancing his way entirely as he began to hunt through the drawers. It was only when he padded through the door into the hallway that she fully allowed herself to breathe again.

She felt terrible, knowing that however turned on Peter had been when she started this, this was sure to be a thousand times worse for him now. A part of her knew that he needed some sort of release as much as she'd needed his comfort last night, but the difference was that while he'd spent all night holding her, she'd just banished him to the bathroom to take a cold shower. As she looked at it like that, she began to think that maybe... maybe she could still do this. Filled with nerves, and hearing her heart thumping in her ears, on autopilot she followed Peter towards the bathroom, and nervously tapped on the door.

"What?" his voice was loud and echoed against the tiles on the bathroom wall.

"Let me in" she ordered, an odd sense of power rushing through her. Peter didn't reply, but a few moments later, she heard the lock click and the door swung open. Peter stood shirtless with an almost impatient look on his face.

"I don't want to have sex with you" she spoke in rush, worried he would shut the door in her face if she didn't get to her point quickly

"Okay…" Peter was obviously at a loss for what to say to something like that, and she could see a vague hurt in his eyes, so she quickly corrected

"Well, not today anyway," she took a breath, "That being said, I do want to do _something_ for you."

"Something?" Peter questioned, either very confused, or very cautious.

"Something" she nodded, drawing him close for yet another kiss, this time grinding her hips against his for emphasis.

**

He fought to suppress the groan her movements elicited, but it didn't seem to matter either way, for her lips were suddenly on his again, effectively muffling the sound. Meanwhile her fingers fumbled with his belt, whipping it off at the first opportunity and tossing it to the corner. It took all of his willpower, but he managed to pull away.

"You don't have to do this" Hell, he wasn't entirely sure what _this_ was yet, but he knew that while he would certainly enjoy it, she wasn't necessarily in the right state of mind to be doing anything with him. He knew he had most likely let things get too far already, especially given her reaction when he'd tried to touch her breasts.

"I want to." With that, she undid the button of his jeans and her hand slid downwards, into his boxers and gave him a swift stroke, followed by a second. He gave an undignified grunt, and gripped the doorframe.

"Get in the shower" she commanded, and he nodded wordlessly, stepping back into the bathroom, shedding the rest of his clothes as quickly as he could manage. He reached around the shower door to turn on the water, and meanwhile out of the corner of his eye he saw her lock the bathroom door and strip as well. This time he didn't dwell on it, and instead crushed his mouth against hers, praying to God that she wouldn't change her mind again. Pulling away briefly she stepped under the spray of the water, and beckoned for him to follow. He barely had time to shut the door behind them before her hand returned to his painfully stiff member to resume caressing him.

**

"Livia" he moaned aloud, reminding her very much of the noises he'd made during his earlier dreams. Feeling encouraged, she kissed him once more, before kneeling down onto the wet floor. She looked up at him, and met his lustful eyes, giving him one last swift pump. She hesitated briefly before running her tongue along his length and from the half yelp he gave, he obviously hadn't been expecting this. With that, she paused, pulling back briefly to glance up at him.

"I haven't done this a lot, so tell me what feels good and what doesn't, okay?" he nodded wordlessly, and she slowly enveloped him with her mouth.

She set about a steady rhythm of licks and sucks, and she was pleased to find that, unlike John, he didn't attempt to steer her and just let her do whatever she felt comfortable with. She drew back a little swirling her tongue around the head and he gave a sharp gasp. Pleased, she repeated the motion, before returning her attention to his shaft.

Before long, his breathing grew ragged and the little thrusts he was working hard to contain increased in frequency and strength, and she doubled her efforts, knowing it wouldn't be long now.

**

He let his hand fall into her hair, trying to coax her away as gently as he could.

"Olivia, stop" he warned her, holding back as much as he could, but he was damn close and if she was to keep doing what she was doing for much longer, he was sure to explode.

"Olivia, unless you want me to come in your mouth, stop." he protested weakly, because he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to pull back. He just didn't have the strength to do that again.

**

Olivia stilled as he spoke, and reluctantly pulled away, standing up next to him in the cramped space. She had intended on seeing him through to the finish, but she had been strangely nervous about the thought of him climaxing in her mouth, and so she was grateful that he'd given her an out.

She returned her attentions to his mouth, where he kissed her hungrily. One hand tangled itself in his hair while the other journeyed downwards and blindly sought out his cock. After a couple of swift strokes, he shouted her name as he tumbled over the edge. His head jerked back as the full force of his climax hit him, and the hand buried in his hair barely prevented him from hitting his head hard against the shower wall behind him. They stood silently for a few more seconds, heavy breathing and pounding water the only discernable sounds in the room.

After another moment, Olivia thought to reach for the shower head and directed it at his thigh, washing the remaining creamy liquid away into the drain. Suddenly, she felt a strange embarrassment for her own nakedness, and she turned away, on the pretence of reaching for the shampoo and washing her hair. Instantly, Peter seemed to snap to life, and reached around her for the shower gel, squirting some on his hand before replacing the bottle. She risked a glance in his direction, and found his open, blissful smile to be almost endearing.

"Feeling better?" she asked, a sly smile on her face and he grinned back at her.

"That was incredible" he paused, leaning in to brush his lips innocently over hers, "You have no idea how much I needed that." The sincerity of his tone and the complete adoration in his eyes was too much for her, and she looked away again.

"If you want me to return the favour sometime…" he asked, a gruff aspect to his tone, "Well all you have to do is ask."

"I'll keep that in mind" she laughed, rinsing the last of the liquid from her hair.

They brushed against each other several times in the cramped space, but didn't reach for one another deliberately until they were out in the bathroom, redressed and somewhat dry. They stood, looking at each other with a very tangible awkwardness, before thankfully they were again interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

"That'll be Walter," Peter said, but he made no move to answer it.

"Or Broyles. You were supposed to be in work about an hour ago" she teased.

"And you weren't?" he cocked an eyebrow

"I've got the day off."

"Shit." he swore as he realised he would be the only one walking in late. Obviously panicked, he glanced about the bathroom for his belt and spotting it first, she handed to him, amused by his frantic movements. Ignoring her for the moment, he left the bathroom, and returned momentarily, holding his keys and his wallet, and wearing his shoes.

"I'll come see you later." he promised, bypassing her on his rush to get out the door.

"Peter" she called him back before he could completely disappear, and reluctantly he returned to her side.

"Yeah?" she pulled him for one last smouldering kiss, and as they pulled apart, she spoke in a matter of fact tone.

"Okay, you can go now."

**

Unable to mask his grin, Peter jogged down the steps and began to dial the number of a local cab office, knowing his car was still outside that bar. By the time he collected it and went home to change, he would end up being a good two hours late. Broyles would not be pleased.

Somehow though, the morning's activities more than made up for the telling off that would come his way.

* * *

**Well I hope you liked it.**

**Tell me how I did please, because M rated fanfiction is an area I have no experience in.**


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